A Long Road
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: to somewhere.
1. Chapter 1

**_:) xxx_**

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Syed turned his case, the wheels making a perfect circle in the yellow earth, and leaned it against the telegraph pole. Squinting in the sunlight, he took in the rocky scenery, gazing out to the line of mountains shimmering on the horizon, and, despite the frisson of joy that the stark beauty of his surroundings moved in him, wrinkled his nose.

"Is it too late to hide?"

Dropping the rucksack beside the case with a grunt, Christian placed his hands on the top of his buttocks and stretched his muscles with a grimace of pain.

"Hop on my shoulders and we'll shimmy behind the pole, no one will ever notice…. Please tell me you're not going to want to do a runner and I'm going to have to lug this bugger all the way back to that garage? That bloke in the dungarees gave me the creeps. The hills have eyes! What's up?"

"Oh nothing."

"Sy." Christian raised one eyebrow, tipped the brim of his cowboy hat low over his forehead and regarded Syed sternly, making him laugh.

"Okay, okay! Just had a wobble. We've had such a brilliant time. I wish we could have stayed there, just you and me. New York was awesome."

"Yeah, it was…"

In a brief and comfortable mutual silence, they both remembered the past fortnight. Memories of trudging through the snowy streets, arm in arm, drinking hot chocolate in Central Park. Watching art house movie and feeling as if they were in one. Dancing in a small, achingly trendy club, until a mutual longing forced them to leave, rushing through the crowds to their cheap hotel room, to make slow, tender love for hours. Lying together afterwards, bodies wrapped around each other, bathed in the neon glow of the advertising signs beyond their window, listening to the wail of passing sirens, the drone of the traffic and the beat of their hearts.

"…Fucking freezing though. At least it's a bit warmer here." Smiling, Christian broke the spell and gave Syed's arm a reassuring nudge with his own. "You hear that creaking noise?"

"Is it your knees?"

"No it isn't, git. It's our bubble expanding to let other people in. We're going to have a ball."

Trying to seem convinced, Syed nodded and perched on top of the case, pushing his feet out in front of him.

"We always do."

"Yes we do, and don't you forget it. Though I don't know why matey wanted to meet us out here in the middle of nowhere, a bar in San Francisco would have been a damn sight more convenient. Oh! NOW I see. Here come Dastardly and Muttley, making an entrance…"

Christian reached for Syed's hand and pulled him upright. He pointed along the long road. It dipped and rose, snaking into the distance, flanked by the stark avenue of telegraph poles, joined forever by a lace of wires, seeming to stretch to infinity. Following the line of Christian's finger, Syed traced the approach of a vintage red convertible, watching as it roared towards them at terrifying speed, stirring billows of dust in its wake.

The car screeched to a halt, tyres crunching on the rough verge, forcing Christian and Syed to step back, avoiding the spray of stones that nearly peppered them. One hand on the wheel, his elbow resting on the edge of the door, Michael beamed with delight.

"Hurrah! I was worried you'd change your mind. You both look dazzlingly fit. Cool hat, Christian. You'll give Ror an aneurysm, he loves a cowboy. It's so good to see you!"

He vaulted out of his seat with ease and grabbed them both into a crushing hug.

"Looking good yourself! " Christian extricated himself and tugged at the dark growth on Michael's chin. "That's a big old beard!"

"I'm sick of it. Had to grow it for a shoot. Please tell me you'll let me use your trimmer. Someone forgot to bring mine…"

Rory, still in the passenger seat, trying to smooth his tousled hair and painlessly extricate strands of it from the hinges of his glasses, shrugged his shoulders.

"Hello. I'm someone, who might have forgotten it accidentally on purpose. As well as loving a cowboy, very nice hat Christian, I also love a salty sea dog."

To Syed's relief, Michael stopped raining kisses on his cheek, like an over excited puppy, to grumble a response,

"Tough. It's going. You blew it when you said I looked like Captain Haddock."

Syed laughed at the unkind comparison and waved a greeting.

"Hey Rory. Is it tickling your fancy?"

"His fancy can do one, no more pirate fun for him. He doesn't have to wear the beast. I keep getting stuff in it." Michael pouted, looking pleadingly at Christian for support.

"Stuff?" Christian's mouth drooped in mock compassion, and Michael winked, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Mmm. Stuff. How are you? Your Mum and Dad all right, Christian? How was New York?"

"They're fine, thanks, bellyaching about the weather, but secretly pleased to be home." Christian gently touched the soft nape of Syed's neck. "And New York was fantastic. Did you have a good Christmas and New Year?"

"Eventually! I nearly spent Christmas day at Beijing airport. Had to deploy an oil slick of charm to get a flight home."

"Such an effort for him…" Rory said dryly.

Christian barked with amusement and strolled over to the convertible, running his finger along the shining chrome appreciatively.

"Isn't it! Nice wheels. You finally traded in the green monstrosity, then, Michael?"

"How very dare you! Though I might, for this… Nah, this is only borrowed. Got to drop it off at the next town."

Puzzled, Syed frowned.

"What are we going to do a road trip in then? Or have we got to walk to Vegas?"

A horn blasted, making him jump in alarm and clutch his chest. The honking noise was followed swiftly by an unmistakeable shriek. Rory rolled his eyes and slumped down into the cream leather seat, muttering, "oh god" under his breath and Christian clapped in delight.

"Fuck me; it's Godzilla, spleen of the desert!"

The Winnebago, a sleek, huge, aluminium bullet, growled ever nearer, Steve grinning broadly through the windscreen, while Sam hung precariously out of the open window, holding a lilac scarf high in the air, letting it ripple and flap in the breeze, yelling obscenities at the top of his voice.

Syed stood beside Christian and slipped his arm around his waist, hissing through a rictus grin,

"I told you we should have hidden…"


	2. Chapter 2

"Whoa! Mmmf…" Sam jumped onto Christian, wrapping his legs around his waist, planting a kiss full on his lips and sending him staggering backwards.

"Darling!" Sliding to the ground, Sam turned to Syed, looking him up and down with narrowed eyes. Suspecting he was about to receive the same treatment, Syed winced and braced himself for the onslaught. Instead, Sam put his hands on his hips and slowly shook his head.

"Well, well, well." He said. "Who would have thought it…?"

Syed's heart sank, dreading the inevitable barrage of barbed teasing. He flicked a panicked glance at Christian and his discomfort pulsed through the group like the electricity that throbbed along the telegraph wires above them. Christian sent a wave of soothing love with a look and Steve groaned. Lounging against the car door, idly studying his fingernails, Michael sensed the sudden change in atmosphere, saw Rory indicate, with a frown and a grim downturn of his mouth, that he should do something, and clapped his hands loudly.

"Sam! Let me show you…." He paused, struggling for inspiration, and then beamed brightly, pleased with himself at selecting an excellent diversionary tactic. "…My cock!"

Delighted, Sam rushed Michael to the Winnebago, before he could change his mind, shoving him up the steps with unseemly haste.

Steve slapped Syed on the shoulder.

"Take no notice of him. He's a little shit. I'll have a word."

Grateful, Syed ignored the pain from the force of Steve's affectionate touch and smiled.

"Thank you… But Rory, I'm so sorry! Michael's not really going to, is he?"

"Oh, probably." Rory responded, unconcerned. "I'm surprised Sam hasn't seen it already. Most people have. There are a couple of pictures on the internet. He says they're faked. Mind you, one of them looks awfully familiar. You can google it, if you're that fussed."

"Yes." Steve agreed, then flushed under his tan and scuffed at the earth with the toe of his boot.

"Yeah. Sam's probably the last person on the planet not to have seen it." Syed chuckled.

"Hang on." Christian tweaked a strand of Syed's hair and scowled. "When have you seen it? I haven't seen it."

Touched by Christian's little show of jealousy, Syed stroked his cheek, running his finger over the stubble.

"In the showers at school, numpty."

With an almost imperceptible blink of dark brown eyes, Rory sighed and pressed at the centre of his glasses, repositioning them onto the bridge of his nose.

"By the end of this trip, you'll be sick of the sight of it, Christian. Aversion to clothes, that boy. And no shame. It's very nice, though. I think." He opened the car door, stepped out and stretched with an audible clicking of bones. "Would anyone like a drink? The grand reveal is finished, here they come."

"Sam. No. You are four million types of wrong. Waxing your pubes doesn't make it look bigger; it makes it look stupid, like a porny bag full of turkey giblets. And at no point did I say you could touch it. Who wants a tour of the beast? Please note I am no longer talking about my knob." Michael gestured towards the sleek, shining, Winnebago with pride and ushered them all inside.

"Loads of food and drink…." Michael slammed the fridge door shut and opened a cupboard. "Tons of protein shakes…"

"Excellent!" Christian's eyes lit up. "I seriously need to get back in shape." He flexed his arm, the bicep curling, belying the statement and Syed felt his mouth fill with saliva. He turned away, hoping no one had noticed that he'd gone a little faint.

"Fuck off man! With those guns?" Steve bellowed in disbelief.

"Hmm. Too much good living lately. You though, you're like Conan the Barbarian!"

Christian patted Steve's bulging chest, muscles clearly visible through his tight yellow tee shirt.

"Cheers. I'd like to be a bit more ripped." Sam studied the flesh revealed by Michael's low slung jeans and open shirt with a professional eye. "You've got some abs and cum gutters on you, Michael. What have you been doing?"

"MMA mostly. Wish I could get as much mass as you two."

"No." Steve shook his head. "Wouldn't suit you. We could maybe work on getting you a touch more bulk on your deltoids…."

As Michael happily allowed Steve and Christian to prod and poke him, Syed made himself comfortable on the long padded seat that ran beneath the window, sinking against the rainbow coloured cushions. Rory slipped beside him and muttered,

"More definition than he gets from the Mixed Manly Activities? How will I cope? You look well, Syed. Joining in with the current orgy of testosterone, do you work out?"

"Me? I've got my own rather wonderful personal trainer, so I do a bit. I like to run. Me and Christian used to jog along the beach most days…" A wave of nostalgia for the house on the shore washed over him and he had to give himself a little mental shake. "How about you? Do you do martial arts with Michael?"

Pensively twitching at the hem of his long beige shorts, revealing a knobbly knee, Rory answered,

"What an awful thought! He leaves at some ungodly hour in the morning. Comes home sweaty and full of beans, which is fun. I cycle a lot, and try to keep up with Michael's energy, but honestly, I really can't be arsed. I'd rather eat a meringue and have a nap."

"God, you lot accuse me of being vain! Listen to yourselves, banging on!"

Petulantly, Sam flung himself between Syed and Rory, forcing them apart and put his hand on Syed's knee. "You'll always be divine, sweetheart. That mouth, those eyes, your skin. Delicious!"

"Ha! The man speaks truth." Christian lifted Sam's hand away. "Keep your manicured mitts off. He's mine. Where are the beds in this thing, Michael?"

"There's a double through there…" Michael pointed towards a blonde wood panel at the far end. "….Underneath our partner's delicious bottoms, a thing slides out. That sounds wrong, I mean the thing they're sitting on slides out. Above us, there are two bunks. Or, if you fancy, we've got a couple of tents. A glamping type one and an old fashioned canvas effort."

Syed gazed up at Christian and smiled, pupils widening as a delicious fantasy flooded into his mind.

"We'll take the canvas one." He said firmly.

"Me and Ste are having the double." Sam cut in. "I'm not fucking camping."

"Ha!" Christian slapped his thighs and cackled with laughter. "Breaking the habit of a lifetime then?"

"Ha ha! We'll hold you to that Sam. You have to be butch the whole trip. Bog's along there, there's a shower, telly, music, though that seems to be stuck on a G-A-Y soundtrack loop… So, it's a luxury hotel on wheels!" Michael studied their faces, seeking approval.

"I'm not sure sharing a toilet with Steve and his dodgy bowels could ever be classed as luxurious."

"Christian!" Syed admonished. "It's lovely, Michael. Thank you for organising this."

"Oh not me totally. I sorted the transport. Nothing to do with the nitty gritty itinerary malarkey."

"Was that you Rory?" Syed asked.

Michael spluttered.

"Him? He can't organise a matching pair of socks, bless his odd cotton ones!"

"Actually." Sam jutted out his jaw and smoothed the sides of his short brown hair. "It was me. And before you all start with the shock horror whinging, I would like to point out that I run a successful business, both online and off. I also sort out Steve's appointments and accounts, am well versed in logistics, and am generally fabulous. So you can all kiss my peachy, sensational ass, get down on your knees, and worship me. Especially Syed and Michael. Please. Together, if you like. I'm not too proud to beg." With a flick of his head, he slumped back, slyly fondling Syed's thigh as he did so.

"Sam! Darling! We never doubted you. What's the plan?"

Christian pulled Syed up, rescuing him from Sam's groping, protecting him in an embrace.

"I'll let you have a copy of the spreadsheet. Tonight we're booked into a motel in the next town, because I'm shattered from getting here and that shower looks suspect."

"Bates motel." Michael fished in the pocket of his jeans and dangled a key tantalisingly in the air. "I've got to drop the car off tomorrow. So…." He grinned, looking from Christian to Syed. "Why don't you two take it for a spin?"

Eagerly, Christian stepped forward, but Michael bowled the key overarm to Syed.

"Excellent!" Sam quickly tied his lilac scarf around his head, knotting it under his chin. "I'll come too!"

Michael wrestled a protesting Sam down, sweetening the bitter pill by sitting firmly on his lap.

"No you don't. It's Thelma and Louise, not Thelma, Louise and Princess Anne. Wait for us on the edge of civilisation. Enjoy!"


	3. Chapter 3

_**So sorry for the wait! :) xxx**_

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"Oh no you don't! Ha! Christian! Get off!"

Syed dodged away from Christian's groping hands, running to the other side of the car, using it as protection. He triumphantly shook the key and crowed,

"Who did he give this to? You? I don't think so! I think you'll find it was little old me."

He opened the door and slipped into the driver's seat, smiling smugly as he rested his hands on the steering wheel, caressing the leather cover. Christian slumped sulkily beside him, arms folded across his chest.

"Yeah, but he meant to throw them to me. He's a rubbish bowler."

"A fair few silver cups in the school trophy cabinet, engraved with his name, tell a different story! You'd better take your hat off, or you'll lose it. It's going to be fast. It's going to be furious."

"Hmm." Grumpily stowing his hat between his feet, Christian ran his fingers through his short hair and scowled. "Slow and tedious. When was the last time you drove? Have you ever driven on the right?"

Slipping the key into the ignition, Syed turned it, listening to the purr of the engine with delight.

"You hardly ever let me, darling. And I once drove an X type Jag to Paris for a business meeting."

Syed blithely omitted the fact that he had been a passenger for most of the journey, trusted only to take a brief turn around a car park. He took his sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on.

"What? A pedal one? Do you know where you're going? There's no Satnav."

"Thank fuck for that!" Syed leaned across, kissed Christian on the mouth, figuring it was the best way he knew to stop him moaning, and then pressed his foot on the accelerator.

"Ha! Sy!" Christian gripped Syed's knee as the car swerved onto the road. "We're going too fast!"

"Nope!" Syed shouted, hair whipping from his face, teeth white in a wide grin, "We're not going fast enough!"

Eventually, signs of habitation started to appear and Syed reluctantly slowed down. Turning off the radio, silencing the blast from the rock music station, he asked,

"Where shall we stop and wait for them?"

"I don't ever want to stop." Christian sighed. "I seem to have a raging hard on. Wonder where the motel is? I need to have you."

"Really? Yay! I'll pull in here and give them a ring…." He swerved into the forecourt of a small bar, set back from the road, announcing itself to belong to Mal on a hand painted wooden board.

"Bollard!" Christian yelled, grabbing onto the dashboard.

"Same to you. I am aware of the bollard. Keep your wig on." Syed lied, cautiously backing the car into a space beside a rusty pickup truck. Turning of the engine, he took off his sunglasses and squinted at his phone.

"Bollocks. No signal."

"I'm not surprised." Christian flicked a fingernail against the red plastic case. "You've had that thing for about a billion years. Don't know why you didn't upgrade when I did."

Syed cradled the phone, heart melting with fondness.

"It reminds me of us."

"Aw, Sy! You could always keep it. I've kept mine somewhere…" Christian touched the screen of his sleek new mobile and laughed hollowly. "Isn't technology marvellous, no signal for me either." He glanced towards the low stone building and licked his lips. "Might as well get a drink while we wait, I fancy a beer."

"The piano player will probably stop when we walk in." Syed frowned at the uninviting façade, depressed by the sight of sad marigolds, wilting in a cracked earthenware pot by the entrance.

"Ha! And tumbleweed will blow past to the sound of a tolling bell… We'll just have to bring the party." Christian flipped his cowboy hat onto his head and crooked his elbow. Linking arms, Syed grinned.

"Okay. What's the worst they can do? Shoot us?"

The other few occupants of the bar seemed neither inclined to party, or thankfully, shoot them. A thin young man, leaning against a slot machine, his face livid with a shaving rash, was the sole person to pay them any attention, nodding a brief acknowledgement. A bored girl with a full sleeve of tattoos, managed to stop her conversation with someone, hidden away in a back room, long enough to fetch Christian a bottle of beer and a tall glass of lemonade, taking his money with a swift disinterested smile.

Syed found a seat by the window. Sitting cautiously, he worriedly studied the stuffed boar's head on the wall behind him.

"Thanks…" He took the glass from Christian and jabbed his thumb upwards. "Do you think there's any likelihood of that falling down?"

"Brained by a boar!" Christian giggled and sat opposite him, resting his elbows on the table. "It's ceilings you have to be careful of, with your track record. Sy…" He took a swig of beer and reached to take Syed's fingers, his own, cold from the bottle, warming quickly at the touch of Syed's flesh. "….Speaking of boars, don't let Sam be one, a b.o.r.e that is. Tell him to fuck off if he gets on your tits."

Syed shrugged, top lip curling briefly.

"Oh I don't mind. I know what he's like…" Syed glanced around the bar; giving Christian's fingers a squeeze before he slowly moved his own away. "I worry he might upset you."

"Ha! Fuck no. I've had years of him. He just cracks me up."

"Yeah. It's a bit relentless though. Does he ever talk about anything apart from sex?"

"Not much. Celebrities, other people… Star Trek maybe. I think he likes talking about it more than doing it, from some of the things Steve's told me. You should call his bluff and pretend to come on to him, for a laugh. What he really likes is watching. Offer to let him, see if he spontaneously combusts."

Shuddering, Syed grimaced, face filled with disgust.

"Over my dead body! Eww, except he probably would. My brain!" He clutched his head. "It's polluted with pictures that can't be unimagined!"

A different vision assaulted Christian, rising suddenly and unbidden, of a future without Syed. Bereft and desolate, he felt a physical pain; as if a talon, sharp as a scalpel, had raked along his gut. He urgently sought the comfort of Syed's eyes, his own prickling with tears.

"Don't ever die." He said quietly.

"I'll do my best. Hey! Clarkey! What's up? Silly."

Under the table, he pressed his leg close against Christian's, attempting to assuage his surprising burst of sorrow with the touch of his body, wishing he could override his innate reluctance to kiss away his distress in full view of strangers. "Come on. Let's go outside…"

"Sorry." Christian sniffed and smiled. "I'm all right. Just being an arse. Oh look." He nodded towards the window. Outside, pulled up at a green traffic light, cars hooting behind it, the Winnebago blocked the road. They watched in amusement as Michael, leaning out to find them, kept having to turn and slap at Sam, trying to stop his concerted assault on his waistband as he attempted to pull down his jeans. Spotting them, he began to gesticulate wildly, waving and pointing to the right.

"I think they want us to follow. Shall we bother?"

Syed laughed and screwed up his face, pretending to concentrate hard.

"Hmm. Difficult. I don't know. I suppose we'd better. We need a nap when we get to the motel. A long one."

"A very, very, long one." Christian nodded in agreement, focusing his gaze on Syed's mouth.

"The longest. Here." Syed put the car key on the table. "Your go."

"Nah. Funny, you in the driving seat has been a massive turn on." Christian winked. "You can stay in it for later…"


End file.
